


I taste the lies, lies, lies

by dragon_rider



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Self-Worth Issues, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3438269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_rider/pseuds/dragon_rider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack never did the right thing if it was going to end badly and that was it, about as deep as he was ever going to get.</p><p>(Spoilers for 1x08)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I taste the lies, lies, lies

**Author's Note:**

> so i read [this](http://totally-jammf.tumblr.com/post/112051362405/i-just-watched-the-season-finale-for-agent-carter) and then this happened.
> 
> i figured we could make do with another ficlet on the tag you feel me.
> 
> (i'm not a native speaker so there are going to be mistakes in this i'm sorry).

“You should’ve told them,” Sousa hissed at him the minute the higher-ups were gone, cornering Jack in Dooley’s old office, “You know damn well it wasn’t your credit to take.”

Jack didn’t quite know what got a hold of him in that moment.

He tried to make his colleague—the only one who had unwittingly well placed dislike for him in this whole place—understand.

“You think it’d be so easy, don’t you? Turning around and opening my arms to show the two of you, telling them all about how a woman and a cripple are the S.S.R.'s best and brightest, ” he scoffed, “See, that’s why you get along so well. You’re two of a kind. Me? I’m like them; I know how they think.”

Sousa scowled some more. It almost made Jack laugh but he decided not to take his chances with the man’s fists, not this time.

Sousa was full-on on knight in shining armor and Jack? Jack was going to let him have that, at the very least, even though Carter didn’t need anybody do the talking for her.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his ire momentarily tempered with confusion, “It would’ve been that easy! I don’t know what kind of tales you’re telling yourself so you can sleep tonight but you're wrong.”

“I know what I should’ve said, Sousa, don’t think that I don’t,” Jack remarked, pacing a bit around the desk to get rid of the little voice in his head that insisted he kept with his charade and don't bother with this, “But I also know what they would’ve said; the second I was done explaining Carter’s deed and even if I took a long minute to mention some of the previous things she pulled off on her own, there would be no respect left for me or for anyone else in this office. You want to know why? Because we’re not used to women like Carter—Hell, most of America doesn’t know she can even exist. You listen to the radio sometimes, don’t you, you know what’s the most popular show on these days?”

Sousa made a face, which was about as much as Jack needed to prove his point.

He paused just in front of him, holding his eyes as the man eyed him with something akin to astonishment but still pretty much into _you_ _’_ _re a horrible man, Thompson, and I can_ _’_ _t believe you outrank me_ territory.

And really, Jack knew it. He’d known it for a long, long time. This was completely unnecessary for both of them.

And yet.

“They think every woman is Betty Carver, born to be America’s sweetheart. I tell them what Carter’s done for us, what I think of her—all they're going to hear is that I'm sweet on her, on the pretty thing we keep as secretary,“ he chuckled, willing to bet Carter wouldn’t even need one if she had her own task force, “You know how I’m so sure of it? Because I’m the same kind of scum they are. This is how we think. So you let me deal with them, Sousa, and you go on being noble with Carter.”

 _You go on saving the day_ , he thought bitterly, _and I_ _’_ _ll go on pretending to be something I_ _’_ _m not, something I_ _’_ _ll never be._

Shutting Sousa up wasn’t satisfying.

Neither was thinking he was still the best man between the two, even without a leg.

What Jack was missing—what he’d always been missing—was far more important than that after all.

***

When he enrolled he was trying to find himself.

He was right where all good boys were supposed to be; fighting the good fight, fighting Captain America’s war, serving his country killing one poor sod that was doing the same for his own homeland at a time.

And he found himself alright; he was at the other end of the barrel of the rifle he used to shoot people who were already down in all the ways that mattered, he was there digging holes in the ground to hide the hideous act he’d committed trying to do the _right thing,_ trying be _good_.

The praise came as a shock. It wasn’t the first time he’d killed, not by a long shot, but it was the first time it seemed to count for something.

He got his medals, made a show of being properly humble but mildly proud of a mistake that soiled his tongue with filth until there were no tastes for Jack to discern beneath it but the roiling truth only he was aware of.

He was a good soldier but not a good man; a good man would’ve admitted his wrongdoing, lowered his head and took the demotion and whatever else they chose to throw at him because he deserved it.

Jack? Jack smiled and told a few clichéd words about how good it felt to defend freedom and all that was good in the world.

Jack? He was a coward, ugly in all the ways that mattered, deep down to his core.

***

He’d always been wary of women, even before meeting Carter. They made him nervous even when they weren’t a mess of tears seeking comfort and protection from a man.

Women were enticing, sly creatures that used the little they had to work with to get what they wanted.

You could love them, sure, but never trust them to understand what it was like to be a man; to be responsible for great things, to proceed only with logic and intellect as guides instead of fancies and emotions.

That was until he witnessed first-hand how not only women could be just as good as any man but _better_.

That was until Peggy Carter showed him she was as competent as any of them on her bad days and better than the lot of them on her good ones.

He still wasn’t quite convinced about every woman but Peggy? She could do it all; she could be clever and compassionate, could fire a gun in heels and kick anyone on her way with only a pair of her curls rebelling for it. She could take the world by storm with only lipstick and a magazine and make that look like it was plenty. She—she had more good and smarts in one of her long red nails that Jack did in his whole being and that was it.

She’d tried telling him since day one but Jack wouldn’t listen, of course he wouldn’t. He was too busy and comfortable on his high horse—the one he got on with one big fat lie after the other—to pay her any real mind and when he did, he didn’t really have a choice.

He didn’t understand why Peggy had been so adamant in saving him, that day in Russia.

Some nights, he fell asleep dreaming she’d gone up and left like she should’ve if she’d known—if she’d _known_ —

But he knew she would never do that, not even with all the facts in her hands.

She didn’t have that in her. She was almost too good to be real, that woman, and Jack’s heart had taken upon itself the habit of somersaulting whenever she was around only to nosedive and crash when Jack reminded it he was never going to be good enough for someone like her, not even worth a kiss she could blow to the wind.

She didn’t even have it in her to look at Jack with disgust or pity, let alone let him die.

No, she’d always have his back. He knew it from that day on.

It was tragic Jack would never be able to do the same for her, not truly; doing the same for her on the front was one thing and maybe speaking up for her with Dooley had been similar but with a new Chief coming who hadn’t seen the same things he’d seen and hadn’t let Jack do his dirty work just yet to win him over, well—

That was another thing entirely.

Jack never did the right thing if it was going to end badly and that was it, about as deep as he was ever going to get.

***

He looked at her empty desk every morning.

He mocked Sousa on every night shift they had together, mocked him for missing Peggy because it was better than admitting he couldn’t do this without her.

He didn't fret. He knew in his marrow she'd be back eventually.

He mocked him until Sousa told him he’d asked her out for a drink and she said no. Even he wasn’t that cruel.

“She’s probably busy,” he blurted out when his colleague’s eyes wandered to his crutch with quiet resignation, “Give it a while.”

He didn’t know why exactly he was encouraging Sousa to ask Peggy out.

Sure, he was the only one who deserved her, but Jack was petty enough to gloat in his small defeat like he was nothing but a boy of five cackling in the face of a friend who wanted the same thing he did but hadn’t gotten it either.

He smiled when Sousa gaped at him because smiling was just another way of lying in his book.

“Need me to pat you on the back?” he asked, raising his eyebrows lightly, “You’re starting to look a little purple there, pal.”

Sousa recovered enough to blink, setting aside his sandwich to assess him in a way that made Jack uncomfortable enough to hide behind his own, biting into it nonchalantly as his nape prickled.

“So you’re not—“ the other agent hesitated, trailing off in favor of staring at Jack like he was out of his mind for not wanting to be Peggy’s darling for at least a while.

He smiled crookedly, took another bite of his sandwich and licked some mustard from his lip.

“I’m not,” he agreed easily.

_I'm not good enough for her._


End file.
